#jumbles jambled

[the-aqueerium]

Non and his shirts

[rosicheeks]

how is the sale going?

🙃🙃🙃🙃

[iamprofessorgod]

I feel like people don’t understand that Fearne is a Fey. She said countless of times that some of the things she feels, she has never felt it before. “My eyes are wet,”, “I’m confused, I feel like my brain is in a jumble jamble,”.

She even says that she doesn’t allow herself to feel and get angry or sad because she thinks it’ll lead towards the bad version of herself.

However, the only time she opens up about it is when they ask her.

So what I’m saying is— for the hundredth time—

ASK HER HOW SHE FEELS!

[go-back-to-antarctica]

I organise the three books I’ve read by jumble jamble

This is very important research so I can figure out how to arrange my books

[mar64ds]

Solve this dispute: which is harder, Junior Jumble or Crossword?

Oh my god Papyrus you're writing in lower case is everything okay? :(

I think it's crosswords but you're very right, they are boring and junior jambles are much better :)

[hlvrsgai]

...Benrey sounds close to Barney, plus the player that had this game before Gordon, he disappeared. Maybe you could be him but the game jambled jumbled up all your memories?

“What game are you talkin’ about? Besides, if my memories were fucked up, Tommy’d clearly know. He’s my best bro.”

[harrowianthe]

writing in english after like. 8 years is so frustrating, to try and figure out how to speel jumbled i had to look up: jungled, jangled, jambled, jumbed untili finally landed on the actual spelling

[fearthefuzzybear]

jamble jumble make it pink

[deheerkonijn]

A jumble of Jimble Jambles

[250in2018-blog]

Guided By Voices “How Do You Spell Heaven” & “Space Gun”

105. Guided by Voices How Do You Spell Heaven

106. Guided by Voices Space Gun

CD, 2017/2018, Guided By Voices Inc.  

How does one in engage with an artist as prolific as Robert Pollard? Or, put it another way, if someone asked you about GBV, where would you recommend they start? Thoughtlessly, I’d tell them to listen to Bee Thousand and Alien Lanes, because those were the two I was told to start with when I first got into the band in the late 90s. But when Bee Thousand came out in 1994, it was their seventh full-length album. How Do you Spell Heaven, released last year, is their twenty-fourth--and that’s even after the band went 8 years without releasing a record.

And that’s just the proper GBV albums, not counting solo records, EPs, and side projects like the fantastic Boston Spaceships. Once, say around 2006, I would have considered myself a gigantic fan and counted GBV among my ten favorite acts of all time. But even at that point I’d only really deeply listened to about half their records. Since then, How Do You Spell Heaven is the first GBV release I’ve bought in over a decade.

So let’s reframe the question: how does one engage the work of a very prolific artist on an album-by-album basis? This question is particularly perplexing if we’re looking at work that no one would consider the artist’s best, but work that is nonetheless very enjoyable and worthy of discussion.

GBV “broke up” in 2005. In 2010, they reunited with their early 90’s lineup, pairing Pollard with Greg Demos, Mitch Mitchell, and occasional singer/songwriter Tobin Sprout. They released 6 albums between 2012-2014, and I haven’t heard any of those because they didn’t sound that great.

Pollard re-broke and re-re-formed the band in 2016, teaming up with guitarist Doug Gillard, who wrote the live staple “I am a Tree,” which originally appeared on 1997’s Mag Earwhig!. Contemporary critics didn’t love the late 90’s GBV, complaining that the more straightforward songstructure and relatively hi fi production muted the charm of their earlier, more jambling and tinny sounding releases. With the post-breakup GBV the opposite appears to be true: whereas the classic lineup’s albums garnered mediocre reviews, the newer releases have been received more positively.

Listening to How Do You Spell Heaven--again, with a very long gap since the last I heard a new GBV record--this critical appraisal makes sense. This is the most richly mixed and immediate-sounding Bob Pollard record I have ever heard. The opener, “The Birthday Democrats,” is built upon a cranky guitar line reminiscent of The Coolies. This moves into the gorgeously mixed “King 007,” which does the classic GBV trick of starting with an acoustic-driven groove for the first third, kicking into rockin’ electric guitars, and then finishing out with the acoustic stuff.

The songs are all pop-length and there’s little break in between them, and the album’s unrelenting pace makes it easy to get lost. Each track has its own, distinguishable hook, however. Not all hooks are equally effective, but you can’t accuse the album of having any straight-up filler. Highlights include “Diver Dan,” which like many of Pollard’s bests is basically three separate choruses linked together. There’s also  “Pearly Gates Smoke Machine,” an uncharacteristic instrumental co-written with Gillard, that sounds like something that would serve as an excellent finishing track on a late-90’s Sub-Pop release.

All in all, Heaven is a really good album. If Pollard’s voice were more young-sounding, or if he wasn’t Bob Pollard, this probably would have garnered a lot more attention and maybe made some year-end lists.

The latest release, 2018’s Space Gun, retains the same basic sonic makeup of Heaven, but brings back the most varied and jumbled song structures of their 90’s output. The opening title track is, by GBV standards, exceptionally long and angry-sounding.”King Ark” plays like a more sonically fleshed-out cut from the Alien Lanes days. With lyrics that are sparse, scary, and absurd, “Liar’s Box” evokes the feel of a Propeller track, only with a sonic profile that’s rougher and angier. It’s an excellent, excellent song. Likewise, “Blink Blank” and “I Love Kangaroos” both mix appealing parts from all the band’s eras to produce tight, remarkably engaging tracks that hold up against all the but the group’s very best tunes.

Space Gun is slightly less consistent than Heaven, but the best tracks are better--seriously, I had every intention of liking it, but it goes very far beyond any optimism I could have mustered for it. Pollard has said this will be the only album the band releases in 2018, and I get a strong sense that they wanted the release to be processed more deeply than everything else’s he’s put out since reassembling the group.

So, if you’re new to GBV, I’d still suggest starting with the mid-90’s stuff. If it’s been a while since you engaged with the band, both of these are a wonderful place to start.

[the-aqueerium]

👀👀👀

[bornfromscarletcords]

Words Like Shattered Reflections

Hello Beautiful People, I'm Sure Feeling the Christmas Cheer, or Holiday Feels. Either Way I'm ready to Celebrate the Depths of this Winter World We Find Ourselves In. Here's a story with a little bit for everyone.

It was Harmony or something like that. Nebraska was having a strange moment, a thing quite outside of itself if you will. One he couldn’t reconcile was this sense of universal oneness he was suddenly feeling and how it paired with his inability to describe said feeling. Like a cosmic muzzle or a celestial straight jacket. “I must be crazy” He said, but in truth he was only half crazy. You see the world was one big jumble of contradictions. A unity of the absurd, one moment playing into the next and then repeating itself ten years in diameter. Like a merry go round, interesting to look at but, strangely disturbing when examined at a close glance. Like do the horses like that you ride them. These are the questions I guess? Nebraska was looking at a ring. Well was it a ring or an oddly shaped line, he couldn’t tell and the thoughts made him drift off into ideas of flatness and bubbles in his head, and worlds not so far since every moment is here and now and space is a very strange thing. So here we are, right. The infamous crossroads of destiny Nebraska must make a choice of sorts. It’s the age old To be or Not except with the odd twist. Like a torquing trolling merry go round, up and down to smiles unbound. Sorry, sometimes you just have to complete the rhyme. But anyway, there was Nebraska; he must decide to move this moment. Time is ringing in his ears like cathedral bells, and even the best of us get a little afraid to pass on that “holy ghost” so to speak, but balance and all that. Tit for tat. He’s sitting there watching not seeing how eloquently time has unwoven around him. Did you know that radio waves are always present in the air. That sound just ferries all manner of things into existence, sometimes you just have to wake up, open your eyes, and take a long look. Did you know that faeries can’t lie, but they love rockin tunes. Did you know that nothing dies, or was it that we’re constantly dying every minute of every day. Oh well, when I get stuck I just like to say “It really doesn’t matter” in that oh so strange way. It’s like the writings written on the wall, all jumbled and jambled into endless, what was it, love? No it was harmony, right lost track, but sometimes you just have to bring it back. So round and round we go, dancing between the saints in the sin, but little do we ever know, that we will always win. Even if we lose? Well especially. Something I like to do is always turn right, because even the darkest night runs with a sick might when the feelings...Aw lost it, but that happens sometimes, it’s all about hearing the rhythm and resounding and pounding. Did I mention I like to run, that time is like one giant race to its edge and whoever jumps off first wins, or something like that. But we always win, so you might as well know what you’re doing. Nebraska got hit by lightning a time or two, he doesn’t remember all of them, but he suspects five. Like that otherness that hovers at the edge of perception, like a phantom psychic scar that he can’t quite place. We talked a time or two ago and I asked him if life was a game and he could see all times, all possibilities, what role would he play. He said he’s be the board on which it was played. He doesn’t remember of course, it’s just the way it is, we are forgetful things you know. I like “I”s because it’s very personal, like even if we are all just caught in an eternal oneness isn’t cool that we could just say I and mean a thousand different things. A thousand and one messages in one word written so fine. Wine and dine me don’t you, indulge in this mad macabre of the bubbled galleries of creation. We’re always listening, always waiting, and I know it sounds strange, but love loves you and she is the king that makes the game. Checkmate or something. “Sometimes you just have to put the pieces together” Said a man. A man who was quite like Nebraska though Nebraska thought him superior. In the way one sees a shadow of himself, knows it to be his, but can’t quite see how beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and the light carries all shades, and that God breathes through us all. Breathing is always important. “I just feel so lost.” Nebraska said vaguely ignoring the sense of cosmic rhythm he felt permeating off this person who seemed to carry his own internal song so well. You ever think that the body is just an instrument and that light is the cord at the edge of the horizon. “You know the answer, we all do.” The man said. “I’m not so sure about that.” “You say that but here we are talking,” “Is talking the answer?” “The notes have to flow, every solo its complement. Every heart made whole.” “To what end?” “Do you want to know who you really are?” “What?” Nebraska said. “It’s not always about why something has to be done, but what needs to be done. Line up the pieces.” The man said, and Nebraska watched him walk away all dressed in in white and red, or was it black and red, and he carried sapphire hearts in his earings.

Does a moment exist outside of its inception. Does anything?

Nebraska thought the ring should have hearts on it. He was an artist in soul if not in practice, but in reality, we would love to tell him, there isn’t much of a difference. What does it mean for a creation to gain life. Can it ever forget that life that was given to it, or better yet, its absence. You ever thought that there were souls walking around without bodies, or bodies without souls, I find the postulate to be an interesting exercise? Like is a question really a question or just the necessary note to keep the rivers flowing to the sea and the sky wedded to the clouds. Like is water really real, and if it is, does it have to be. Nebraska thought about people drinking liquid air, age old alchemist style. Like what is air really, does it have a life of its own, does it like when we think kindly of it? I just get the feeling like, words just have more power than you could ever realize. Isn’t it wierd how world just has an extra L in it, I like to think it is the light that was missing. You ever think that we were all just scattered, different verses all paying homage to the infinite one, like we were blurred or obscured in such a way that everyone’s famous. Like we all matter, all signs of a grander design. But this grandness is made because of us like we all just have to shine the right way and, bam it’ s finished. Like one day we just see ourselves and understand, we are dreaming stars, cradled in the void. Nebraska’s aura was blue, something someone insisted one day or another. He didn’t know exactly what it meant but it made him think of blueberries, of wild winds and snow storms so fine. He was cold, colder than cold; subzero. Like 00000000000000000 and then below that. There was a wolf walking the world. But that is beside the point as wolves have a habit of doing this from time to time. The humans didn’t see it of course, well not all of them, just little pieces. It gave them chills. This wolf looked like a very attractive young woman, and though Nebraska was looking at a ring he couldn’t help but feel a sense of admiration and almost lunar kinship. Wolves have a habit of inspiring such habits. “You see I’m chasing a rabit. White as winter snow, but you know, I got some time to spare if you would dare to care.” the wolf sort of sang sort of smelled, sort of tasted. “I’m not sure if I understand.” Nebraska said. “Ah nevermind, whatcha hunting.” Howled the wolf. It was a very polite howl, almost like a humming smile. “I’m having trouble figuring out if love exist outside of the symbols.” “Oh, that’s understandable. Symbols are odd that way, like life, constantly radiating. Where many people go wrong is trying to track them like a human, instead hunt them. Like a beast might.” the wolf smiled. “I’m not sure I understand but it sounds like you're saying we all just sort of radiate.” “Yeah kinda, it’s like everything comes full circle, it has to. Debts have to be settled and such. So things can continue.” “You know I don’t think I know many beasts” Nebraska hummed. “Course you do, everybody knows some, some don’t want to, but life has a way of making itself. See right there, that’s a t- rex over there.” The wolf shined. Nebraska only saw a very nervous store clerk with a dragon watch on his wrist, unfortunately missing the great and ancient jungle rising around him as a procession of prey stumbled by to escape that great king lizard. “It feels like you’re telling me we all translate as best we can and that every moment is now, like everything that could ever exist does because now is a gateway of impossibility.” Nebraska said. “Sure, why not, or was it yes and no. I don’t know, you guys are so strange.” The wolf said rubbing his head. Nebraska thought it truly weird that his inner brain was telling him that polite young woman beside him who could have been a ceo with the way she demanded his attention was more or less, wearing wolf paraphernalia. Like, was it a suit, almost comical, really funny make up, or just some sort of tribal headdress. He settled that he’d decide before and after. Like reaching around a round sense of absence. It made him wonder what vibrations and dimensions and bubbles love speaks in. A very delicious looking person walked by wearing a white hymn, or was it a white coat and soon the Wolf mosied on, all smiles and shines, and Nebraska began to realize that inside she would never really leave him, all the pieces had to come together, as it was. Nebraska was beginning to see a little bit of everything in everything, like everything was yearning to be, like everything was alive, like if life could exist then it deserved to. Like we were all made precious and with a destiny all its own. Nebraska’s head once wrote fire and it shined “You may not believe in destiny, but it believes in you?” and he began to wonder about the odd nature of repetition and cosmic reversals. Like a reach around, like some people open doors, some are doors, and others just kind of slip over them. Like Like, you know. Nebraska thought that in the beginning it all just kind of shattered but only so that it all could come back together again. He thought there might be a third part missing, but he was never really sure. Nebraska thought that god said everything unironically and he remembered how it was once said that “The Wolf Never Blinks”. It made him want to start a forest hunting party or something. Speaking of parties, it was once said, and or done. I always lean on the ands, makes things a little easier to wrap up by the end you know. And or done that Love, Life, The Omega, and Satisfaction threw a real banger that shook us all into a dance. Then they flipped it and no one knew where it would land. Hallelujah right. Nebraska saw time in simmering waves, constantly washing and jolting, changing tunes at just the oddest moments. Made talking to people so odd, which is probably why he shined with beasts. He once heard that heroes are found between the mirrors, or was it lines. Oh well, he couldn’t help but think that there was some cosmic contract out there, and that some people might say that God stacks the deck, but that implies the game is fair, and that god is pretty chill. Sore losers lie, but God being the foolish child, speaks very honestly, just very loudly. So loudly you might have to go deep into the edge of darkness where the silence is a little more chatty. Nebraska once heard of people who didn’t dream, and he thought, well they must be dreams themselves. Like when does the dreamer become the dream? Perhaps only heroes could tell. Nebraska had a habit of reading books whose pages changed constantly like it was as much written in the windows of his soul as the world around, and he wondered if we create and break the world every second of every day. Nebraska wanted to win back the day, but we always win don’t we. Nebraska thought god could be seen in time. Like we were all just inverses of one another, passing forward and backward through the currents of existence. Like God made opposite day for a reason, because God really just likes us, thinks we’re all swell fellas and sometimes it’s just really good when they are shuffling the cards. Nebraska thought that we were all just wishes someone dreamed up one day, and that we all had to be nurtured because wishes know when they’re being ignored, and sometimes we all just need somebody to lean on. And did I mention that God says a lot of things Unironically. Still Nebraska wondered if somewhere in the recess of this existential contract there wasn’t a vaguely obscured summary detailing the ironic nature of existence. Oh well, everything starts to look the same eventually. For example if the world is forward and backward, possibly at different times of the day, then one shouldn’t be surprised if you start speaking like a shattered mirror, or was it a glass eye. Hell, I don’t know. Perhaps true mastery required commanding all sides of the board. As if we all had to hold each other. Nebraska passed by a baby in a stroller and upon looking at its face he realized that the world wasn’t a set of rings, but a set of hearts like piercing arrows, all hunting one oddity or another and he thought that strange. Everything started to look like hearts, like an infestation of love bugs but here or there he saw blue wolves tenderly stalking and singing and dancing like woodland knights. “Strange isn’t it.” The baby said. “Oh Definitely.” “Do you know what I mean?” “I know somethings around it.” “Good, then you’re starting to get it. You see words are things of delicate power, and commanding light is like commanding fire. Know these things with care and carry them to love.” “It sounds like you’re suggesting that this world “strange” is in fact a boundary in itself, like an sort of philosophical or even existential barrier or bubble.” “And you begin to wonder what lies within and around the “strange’” “Is that true, could we be spelling truth.” “How the hell, who could tell, maybe I should go, maybe you should dig low, I don’t know.” The baby. “What?” “Sorry I was laughing.” The baby said. “Why do you guys cry so much?” “Babies cry unironically. We sense the great divide and its strangeness, we mourn, we love, and we cry for all the things both happy and sad, neither good nor bad.” “That’s very mature of you.” “I suppose. we enjoy a sort of purity for those that can’t. It’s the cross we bear. “Truly?” “Everyone has one.” “Truly.” “You seem at odds.” “Yes I’m feeling a little strange yes. It’s like I keep getting this sense, like voices singing like everything just works out a-ok at the end, but I keep encountering things that clear the rhythm.” “The songs are always there, it’s more about what you’ll do to find them. I’d listen to the positive side.” “To what end?” “At the worse, if you’re going to get punched in the face, you might as well not be ashamed of it. Second You have to think about what your life is worth, like who are you, and why are you here. Everyone has a destiny. Everyone has someone in their corner, perhaps more than we’re comfortable thinking about.” The baby said. “You seem so confident, but your life is only just beginning.” “No my life is just continuing, existing in its infinite radial pulse. I’ve done this before, you have too, hell we’re doing it a thousand times over as we speak. But everything has to come together, all the puzzles must fit and all the stories aligned.” “How? It’s like you’re talking about wronging all rights. I mean righting every wrong.” “Well look at it like this, if there are multiple worlds and possibilities just sort of bouncing on top of each other, it would make sense that they could be harmonized to the best possible option. Like a wave coasting forward and backwards until everything is nice and clean. Like a cosmic janitor. Us babies helped create it for all the peoples in exchange for shedding their tears. We call it the Santa Clause.” “You mean like Saint Nick.” “I don’t know. Does an idea exist outside of its presentation. Regardless eventually people start calling it the God Clause except wolves of course, they’re pretty well rounded.” “What is the Santa Clause exactly?” “It’s like, in a world of infinite possibilities, everything is at a standstill because there’s a fifty fifty chance that anything will happen and not happen. The santa clause tips the scales. You could say that it comes from the fire of miracles, the last bump that pushes one racer past the finish line just before the other. It’s like people said it was fifty fifty, but no one said how the fifties would be split. A matter of semantics yes, but most things are. And then it effectively keeps doing that until some cosmic balance is achieved or something really cool is made and no one cares any more.” “Santa Clause.” Nebraska said rubbing stubby chin and feeling jollier already. He bid the baby farewell. Nebraska felt, old, and foolish, and strong, and almost sinfully adorable all at the same time. He spun round and round as if the world didn’t exist until he finally landed next to his love. He got her a candy ring from her favorite candy shop but he could swear that it shined like a real diamond. Hell he could swear it shined.

[the-aqueerium]

I asked my friend (!! Aka my platonic husband) if he wanted to be in a pqr with me today and they responded that they thought we were already in one

The day we said we were husband's is apprently the day that they thought we were in a qpr 😭

So anyways we clarified it today when I asked and know we are husband's and boyfriends :)

We are having a date night in October

[the-aqueerium]

Callum Blue on if we should trust Brad via Instagram

[the-aqueerium]

I was looking at the clip of when Dome "arrives" to the house and noticed the blurring effect that someone mentioned the other day that occurs but after a few more watches I noticed TonKlas shirt said "BEFORE ALL ELSE"

So now (like I did with DFF) im going to go back and analyze all their wardrobes

Expect a post within the next week 🫡

[the-aqueerium]

My stinky diaper <333